Epiphany in the New Year

This week ushers in the New Year - 2019. This week's liturgical calendar includes Epiphany. The two speak to the same human desire, but in significantly different ways.

The New Year represents new beginnings. Life itself holds forth the promise of new beginnings in multiple ways, but the beginning of a new calendar year is the primary bearer of this deep seated desire.

The desire (and need) for new beginnings is rooted in the frailty of our humanness and in the brokenness of our world. Mistakes and failure are inherent to our human condition just as challenge and struggle are inherent to the nature of life. One way we cope with our in-process, less-than-perfect nature is through new beginnings - do overs, mulligans, a second serve, three strikes before you're out, four downs to make ten yards and achieve a fresh set of downs. (Did you ever notice how sports reflect our struggle with our humanness and our desire to "get it right"? But that's a thought for another blog.)

The New Year touches our desire to do it differently, to be better. So we make promises to ourselves to be better than we are. We call them New Year resolutions. And the New Year expresses our desire for life to be different. "This last year was a hard one. Maybe this New Year will be better." Our New Year's greeting expresses this latent hope - "have a happy New Year," "a prosperous New Year." 

The New Year embodies our wishful thinking. The problem is our thinking doesn't deal realistically with the nature of life. Just because we flip the page on our calendar to the beginning of a new year does not mean the frailty of our humanness and the brokenness of our world has changed. What makes us think this year should be any different other than our desire for it to be? And what, other than our desire for it to be so, makes us think trying harder will help us overcome our human frailty?

Although my words sound pessimistic, I am simply trying to be realistic. Our hope of being a better person does not lie in the power of our resolve or in the amount of our self-effort. Our hope that life will be different does not lie in a new calendar year.

Which is where Epiphany comes in. The English word epiphany is borrowed from the Greek word that means "to reveal." It refers to a new understanding or a new way of seeing. Its image is of a light coming on that helps us see from a different perspective or "in a different light." We say "it dawned upon me." Such is Epiphany.

In the Church's liturgical calendar, Epiphany celebrates (1) the coming of the magi and/or (2) the beginning of Jesus' ministry at his baptism. The coming of the magi (Matthew 2) is Christ being revealed to the Gentiles - a light to the Gentiles (Isaiah 49:6). Jesus' baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry. Matthew's gospel used the imagery of light to speak of the beginning of Jesus' ministry in Galilee, quoting Isaiah 9:2: the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light; and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned (Matthew 3:16). Epiphany. The prologue to John's gospel used the same imagery: in him was life and the life was the light of all people, (John 1:4); the true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world (John 1:9). John's gospel also records that Jesus, in the midst of Festival of Booths, proclaimed I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life, (John 8:12). Epiphany. In Jesus, the nature and ways of God were fully revealed. And, so, we can see.

Epiphany celebrates the light from God that helps us see differently. It helps us view the frailty of our humanness and the brokenness of our world in a different light. It helps us see them and, thereby, deal with them the way God deals with them - with grace and forgiveness.

The light that is in Jesus invites us to see our in-process, not-yet-mature (perfect) nature as the normal pattern of creation (first the seed, then the blade, then the stalk, then the fruit) rather than as the failure to measure up or as sin. It invites us to deal with our human frailty with forgiveness rather with condemnation and judgment. Forgiveness allows us learn from and grow beyond our failures (including our sins) without the baggage of guilt and shame. (Who ever learned to ride a bike without falling?)

The light that is in Jesus also invites us to view the brokenness of our world differently. Rather than seeing the challenges that life brings to us as something to be feared and avoided, we learn to see them as opportunities to learn and grow. They help us recognize and face our powerlessness, teaching us to rely upon God for a strength beyond our own. They become the context in which God works to transform and redeem life's brokenness.

Epiphany offers us more than a new beginning. It reveals to us a way of dealing with our humanness and life's brokenness that allows us to be different ... through the transforming work of God, through the process called spiritual growth.

So, on this New Year's Eve, I say, "Happy New Year!" Beyond this calendar based greeting, I pray for you a blessed Epiphany and the life-transforming promises it holds.